


Jumping for Gold

by MagicaDraconia16



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Horseback Riding, M/M, Secret Snarry Swap 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 09:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8839567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/pseuds/MagicaDraconia16
Summary: A horse without a rider, and a rider without a horse. What could be more natural than combining the two? If only the horse didn’t take after his owner quite so much when it came to Potters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So this wasn’t quite as long or detailed as I’d planned. Ah, well . . . 
> 
> Written for Prompt #9 from Prayer-at-Night: Sports!AU or if you feel like it, Olympics!AU. Severus and Harry as sportsmen (or trainers, or staff, or whatever).

“No! Absolutely not! I _refuse_!” 

The bellow was loud enough to be heard from Albus Dumbledore’s office all the way across the yard. 

“Oh, come now, Severus, it’s the best solution—” 

“ _NO, IT BLOODY WELL IS NOT_!!” 

This shout rattled the windows, and Harry Potter winced, as several horses nearby whinnied or snorted in alarm. The warm voice of Dumbledore dropped to a low murmur, and Harry couldn’t tell if he was cajoling or ordering. 

Either way, the rider he’d been talking to obviously didn’t take to it, as mere seconds later, the door was flying open to bounce off the wall with a resounding _bang_ , and a tall, dark-haired man came striding out, his face set in a thunderous scowl. The sense of menace he gave off was in no way mitigated by the fact that his left arm was held tightly to his chest by an off-white sling. 

Prudently waiting until the man was out of sight, heading for the large barn at the other end of the yard, Harry sidled towards the office door. Dumbledore was sitting behind a battered wooden desk, his head in his hands. Harry cleared his throat. 

“Hmm? Ah, Harry!” Dumbledore said, raising his head. His blue eyes twinkled in greeting. “How’s things?” 

“Good,” Harry told him, entering the office and closing the door. “Vet says Snitch should be back to tip-top form in three months. Won’t make the Olympics, of course, but at least I won’t have to permanently retire him.” 

“That _is_ good news,” Dumbledore said, beaming. “And as for the Olympics . . . well, Snitch might not make it, but that shouldn’t stop _you_.” 

“Er.” Harry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Except for the small fact that I don’t have a horse . . . ?” 

Dumbledore got to his feet and inched his way around the desk. “Walk with me, my boy,” he said, gesturing for Harry to precede him out of the office. “You may have noticed Severus,” he began, once they were standing on the cobbled walkway. 

“The man who came out of your office?” Harry asked. 

“The very one,” Dumbledore agreed. He began strolling across the yard. “As it happens, Severus qualified for the team, too. Unfortunately, he and his horse had one of their frequent disagreements over the way to jump a fence. In this case, Severus lost, and ended up with a broken arm.” 

Harry winced. A broken arm would take at least six weeks to mend, and then a further two to four weeks of _light_ exercise only. The Olympics were in just one month – and no matter which way you looked at it, Olympic-level eventing was about the furthest you could get from light exercise. No wonder the man had been in a temper; his hopes had been pretty thoroughly dashed. 

“With Snitch’s injury, that obviously puts me in a bit of a quandary,” Dumbledore said, aiming for a narrow, shadowed aisle between loose-boxes that Harry hadn’t noticed before. “As I now have only two fully functioning pairs, plus a rider without a horse, and a horse without a rider.” 

An idea was beginning to take root in Harry’s mind, and he did not like it. “You aren’t planning what I think you are, are you?” he asked, suspiciously. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” said Dumbledore, cheerfully. 

They emerged into another, smaller yard. Unlike the main yard, this one was shadowed and dreary. Harry shivered, and not just because the sun didn’t manage to reach them. “What is this?” he asked. 

“The lads call it ‘the dungeons’,” Dumbledore told him. “Usually it’s just where we put sick or injured horses that need quiet, or the occasional overflow, but Severus prefers to have his two stabled here.” 

“His two?” Harry looked at Dumbledore, surprised. “You mean he actually _owns_ his horse outright?” That was practically unheard of. Most top riders couldn’t afford to keep their own horses, so they rode somebody else’s. Harry’s own ride, Golden Snidget, was owned by a pair of elderly ladies. 

The old trainer nodded at him. “Yes, he does,” he said. “He bought them both as yearlings; broke them in, trained them up and all.” 

“Wow.” Harry shook his head. “Although I suppose that lessens the risk of them being sold on. If he can train them to Olympic level, why isn’t he training others?” 

“Severus is not a people person,” said Dumbledore, smiling at some inner thought. “Added to that, he prefers to ride in the competition himself, rather than watch someone else do it.” 

“Couldn’t he do both? I’m sure there was at least one rider in the last Olympics who was training another country’s team, too.” Harry wracked his brains, but the name wouldn’t come to him. “I can’t remember who, but I’m sure they did . . .” 

Dumbledore chuckled. “I’m not sure Severus’ style of riding would suit anybody else,” he said, and began moving towards a large corner box. From the box next door, a large liver-chestnut coloured head watched them curiously, but the corner box appeared to be empty. “This,” said Dumbledore, rubbing a hand over the liver-chestnut’s muzzle, “is Potions Master. Blackie, for short.” 

Harry blinked at the decidedly _not_ black horse, then held his hand out for it to sniff. The horse lipped his palm for a moment and then, when that produced no treats, turned to the pockets of the long cardigan that Dumbledore was wearing. When that produced nothing either, it gave a snort of disgust, and retreated into the box. 

“Severus keeps him to a strict no-treat policy,” Dumbledore explained. “Blackie is actually a very friendly horse, and so many people were feeding him treats that he began to demand them. Severus was already cross about that, but when Blackie tried to bite the little girl of one of the lads, then he gathered all the lads together, shouted at them for half an hour, and then put his foot down about it. They’re not to come anywhere near Blackie if they have treats anywhere on them, even if they aren’t planning to give them to him.” 

“I see.” And Harry did. He’d seen horses like that in the past, that were demanding and pushy with everyone until they were given what they wanted. Of course, that just rewarded the negative behaviour, and it usually wasn’t long before somebody got badly injured. “Was that the horse he had the disagreement with?” 

Dumbledore actually snorted. “No, that would be Deee,” he said. 

“Deee?” Harry repeated, dubiously. Dee was an odd name for a horse to start with, and it sounded as though Dumbledore had added an extra ‘e’ or two to the name. 

“Short for Death Eater,” Dumbledore explained, and Harry realised his mistake. “DE is stabled in this box,” he waved a hand to indicate the corner box over his shoulder, “but it would be best to wait for Severus before you meet him.” 

Warily, Harry shot a glance at the box. The occupant was clearly inside – he could hear the rustling of the straw – but apparently wasn’t interested in seeing who was outside. He really hoped Dumbledore wasn’t going to suggest what he thought the old man was, as he wasn’t getting the impression that Death Eater – _and who called their horse something like that?!_ – was a friendly animal. 

“That will not be necessary,” said a voice, coldly, from the other end of the yard. Harry looked over to see the rider that had stormed out of Dumbledore’s office earlier. He was scowling fiercely at the pair of them. “As he will not be going anywhere near my horse.” 

Dumbledore smiled at the dark-haired man, but it did seem a bit forced. “Now, Severus,” he began. “Don’t you want DE to go to the Olympics?” 

“DE will neither know nor care if he goes or not,” the man snapped. 

“At the very least, he and Blackie will need exercising,” Dumbledore murmured. 

The other rider snorted. “That’s what lunging is for,” he countered. 

Sighing, Dumbledore shook his head. “At least come and meet Harry properly,” he said. “You would have been travelling together if things had worked out.” 

“I don’t need to meet him,” the rider said. His eyes flicked over Harry. “He’s clearly a _Potter_.” 

Harry felt a jolt of surprise. “You knew my dad?” he asked, eagerly. _He_ hadn’t known his dad. With his unknown mother dead after giving birth to him, and his father too busy to take care of him, Harry had spent his first fifteen months with a succession of babysitters, until his father had been killed in an accident. Surprisingly, considering the man had been a top-level eventer too, he didn’t meet many people who could tell him stories. 

The other man sneered at him. “Oh, yes, I knew James Potter,” he said, his voice gone deep with loathing. “And I do so hate repeating myself, but in this case, I will do so as much as necessary – a Potter will _never_ go near a horse of mine again.” And with a dramatic twirl, the rider stalked off back the way he’d originally come from.

* * *

_How dare he! How could Albus even_ think _that I’d ever let_ his _spawn near my horse?_ Severus fumed to himself as he blindly made his way towards the large barn. Noise from inside indicated that a lesson was going on, and normally he’d avoid those like the plague, but there was no way he was going to take that blasted brat anywhere near DE . . . and with Severus in this kind of temper, DE was just as likely to bite _him_ as anybody else. 

The only temper tantrums DE tolerated were his own. 

Pushing his way in through the human-sized door, Severus strode between the benches that ran all the way down one side of the inside school. A group of about ten girls were circling the arena at a trot. They were apparently supposed to be posting in time with the horses’ gait, but some clearly had absolutely no sense of rhythm. 

“And across the arena and change the lead,” Horace Slughorn, today’s lesson taker, shouted, from where he was leaning against the arena wall. Obediently, the first girl turned her horse’s head inwards, and the entire line snaked its way across to change direction. Only two of the girls actually changed their lead, which involved sitting an extra beat to ensure that they rose to the post when the horse moved its outside foreleg forward. 

Severus shook his head in despair, but Horace either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to correct them. 

Reaching the other side of the barn, Severus ducked outside. Fields spread out in a patchwork of green and brown. Most of the fields were empty at this time of day, but he could see a couple of animals grazing at the other end of the closest paddock to him. He went to fold his arms over the top rail, as he normally did, but was brought up short by the dratted sling holding his left arm firmly to his chest. Muttering curses against his diabolical horse, he turned to lean his back against it instead. 

He and DE had been training for _years_ to get to this point, so much so that they’d not placed anywhere lower than third for the entirety of the last eight months. And now a _Potter_ was threatening to come in and take over again. _I won’t let that happen!_ Severus swore to himself. 

A sudden increase in noise level informed him that the lesson had finished. Deciding that he’d surely given Albus enough time to give up on waiting for him – but feeling perfectly capable of ignoring him if he hadn’t – Severus pushed himself away from the fence and threaded his way between buildings to the feed room. 

One of the other Olympic team members was already in there, scooping oats out of a large bin into a bucket that had a label with the word ‘ _Pigwidgeon_ ’ wrapped around it. 

“Snape,” the redhead said, his tone edging somewhere between polite and rude. 

“Weasley,” Severus responded, using exactly the same tone. Ronald Weasley was not one of the people he could tolerate. The man rode a mouse grey horse that barely reached the height requirement to _be_ a horse, rather than a pony. Given that Weasley was a lanky six foot tall, then it constantly amazed Severus that they managed to jump anything, never mind the kind of jumps they’d be faced with in just a few weeks’ time. 

Crossing the room to where he stored DE’s food, Severus tried to ignore the sideways looks that Weasley was casting at him. His unfortunate difference of opinion with DE had been announced by DE’s riderless appearance in the yard. Several people had quickly set out to see if he needed rescuing, only to find him stalking back to the yard under his own power, his left arm cradled to his chest but obviously with an extra bend in it that shouldn’t have been there. Now, everyone was holding their breath to see whom Albus would choose to go in his place. 

“Ron, I—” a female voice said from just outside the room, then the owner rushed through the doorway, spotted Severus, and skidded to a halt, both physically and verbally. She blushed, and hastily cleared her throat. “Snape,” she greeted, at least sounding more polite than Weasley had. 

Severus sniffed as he scooped up DE’s food bucket and turned for the door. “Granger,” he said. 

“It’s Granger-Weasley, actually,” the woman said, huffily. 

“My condolences,” said Severus, a sneer twisting his mouth. “Excuse me.” Ignoring Weasley’s indignant spluttering, and Granger’s outraged exclamation, Severus pushed past and strode out into the yard. 

It had become a lot more crowded, with the girls and the lesson horses milling around, with grooms darting between to pick up various reins. Severus wove neatly around them all, briskly but gently elbowing a bay gelding’s muzzle when it tried to take a bite out of him as he passed. The horse drew its head back, snorting. Snuffles didn’t like him – and the feeling was entirely mutual. 

Finally reaching the relative quiet of ‘the dungeons’, he could see that Albus hadn’t waited for him. Unfortunately, the Potter brat was still there, leaning against Blackie’s stall door. Blackie – the traitor – had his head over the door, resting it happily against Potter’s upper arm as Potter scratched under his chin. 

Scowling fiercely, Severus ignored them both as he entered DE’s box. The glossy black stallion raised his head and eyed Severus curiously, one ear flicking. Recognising a warning sign, Severus fought to smooth his expression out. He didn’t think he was entirely successful, but DE appeared willing to let it go – _this time_ – in favour of being fed. 

“There, you infernal beast,” he said as he placed the bucket on the floor. DE whickered at him, in what was probably horse for ‘ _About blasted time, you useless human_ ’, and stuck his muzzle into the bucket. Severus fished a few pieces of hay out of the water bucket, then gave the horse an absent clap on the neck as he edged round DE to reach the door again. 

Potter apparently wasn’t going to take being ignored. “Need any help?” he piped up. 

Bolting the lower door shut, Severus gave Potter an icy glare. “From you? Never,” he sneered. 

“Look, um, Severus, was it?” Potter put out a hand to stop him, although he wasn’t quite brave enough to actually touch Severus. “I don’t like Albus’ plan either, but—” 

“But you’ll go along with it because it means _you_ still get to compete,” Severus finished. “Perhaps you need to dunk your head in the water trough to clear your ears. I’ll say it _one_ more time – a Potter is _NEVER_ going to get near one of my horses again. _EVER_!” And with that, he strode off towards the entrance back to the main yard.

* * *

Frowning, Harry made his own way back to Snitch’s box. The bright chestnut gelding whinnied eagerly at him. 

“Hmm, only one man puts that look on a person’s face,” said the warm tones of Remus Lupin, the yard’s vet, from deep inside the stable. “Had a run-in with Severus, have you?” 

Harry snorted, and leant on the stable door, ignoring Snitch as the horse snuffled at him. “Yeah, you could say that,” he agreed. “Albus suggested that since I’m down a horse, and Severus’ horse is down a rider, that perhaps we should combine.” 

“Ah. Yes, that would do it,” the vet said, straightening up from where he’d been putting a poultice on Snitch’s hind leg. 

“Severus has been very insistent that ‘a Potter will _never_ get near one of my horses ever again’,” Harry mimicked. “Just what does he have against Potters, anyway?” 

Remus wiped his hands with a cloth, and patted Snitch on the neck as the gelding turned his head to examine the vet. “Severus was of an age with your father – and myself,” he started. Harry perked up; the vet had never mentioned _that_ before! “When Severus first came to this yard, he rode a gorgeous little strawberry roan mare. She was a real goer; could jump anything you pointed her at, and was an absolute marvel in the dressage ring. Everyone said that she had real Olympic potential.” 

“He obviously doesn’t have her anymore,” Harry said. “What happened?” 

“A year after Severus arrived, your father came to the yard,” Remus said. “He took a real shine to the mare, although the feeling wasn’t mutual.” A smile briefly lit up Remus’ face, and he shook his head. “The first time James tried riding her, out in the paddock, she bucked him off into a tree.” 

Harry laughed at that image. 

“After about six months or so, a three-day event came up,” Remus continued, the mirth falling from his face. “Severus was already entered with her, but came down with food poisoning the night before. The owners asked Albus if he could find a last-minute replacement; and James leapt at the chance.” Remus shook his head again, more sorrowfully this time. “Severus swore blind for years that James’ best friend, Sirius Black, deliberately made him ill so that James could get the ride.” 

“And did he?” Harry asked, a bit taken aback by this. 

“Sirius swore he didn’t, but nothing could be proved either way.” Remus shrugged, and turned to collect his vet bag. “Personally, I wouldn’t put it past Sirius, although if he did, I don’t think he meant it to be quite as virulent as it was. Severus was ill for two weeks.” 

Harry pulled a face just thinking about it. “What happened with the mare?” he asked. 

“The owners asked James to ride her whilst Severus was sick. And then James decided he wanted her for himself. The owners were incredibly loyal to Severus; they offered him first refusal. Unfortunately, James was much richer than Severus, so he just kept upping his offer until Severus couldn’t match it.” Remus nudged Snitch out of the way so he could exit the stable. Closing and bolting the lower door, he handed a small vial to Harry. “Here, give him three drops of that in his water every night for this week, then we’ll see how he’s getting on.” 

“Thanks.” Harry absent-mindedly rubbed Snitch’s muzzle. “So where’s the mare now?” 

Remus paused and studied Harry for a moment. “Her official name was Lily of the Valley,” he said, finally, “but James was so enamoured of her that it became a bit of a joke; a groom called her _Lily Potter_ one day, and the name just stuck.” 

Harry’s breath went out of him in a rush. “She was the mare Dad was riding when—” he began. 

“When he died in the accident,” Remus finished, nodding. “It was terrible; Severus had trained her up since she was a filly – he was devastated. There were rumours that he’d sabotaged that jump to get her back again, but there was no way he would have risked hurting Lily that way. Sirius tried to claim that Severus had outright attempted to murder James, in return for some prank they’d pulled on Severus not long after they’d arrived here, but nobody could have known they’d fall like that.” 

Harry shuddered. He’d gone looking for articles about it, once. There had been a video clip online of it. His father’s horse had been galloping along well, but when she came to jump an upright log fence with brush at the top, her foreleg had seemed to catch on something, and the mare had basically somersaulted over the fence and into the ditch that was just after it. The camera had been at the perfect angle to show his father being thrown off over the mare’s shoulder, bouncing upside down off the edge of the ditch where it caught him in the middle of his back, and then crumpling into the ditch, seconds before several tons of flailing horse landed in it. 

A terrible tragedy, the articles had called it, but at least it would have been quick; James Potter would have been unconscious from the pain in his broken back before his falling horse snapped both his neck and her own. 

“So . . . when Severus says a Potter will never get near his horse,” Harry began. 

“He doesn’t want to risk losing another horse,” Remus agreed. 

“But he outright owns the horse, doesn’t he?” asked Harry, puzzled. “It couldn’t be sold out from under him – even if I _had_ the money to buy a horse, which I don’t.” 

Remus shrugged. “Logic doesn’t have much to do with it,” he said, and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Right, I have to get on. See you later.” 

“Right. Thanks, Remus,” Harry called after the departing vet. Turning back, he studied his horse. Mrs Figg had been a neighbour of his for years, so she’d asked him to ride her newly purchased horse for her. Golden Snidget had only been three years old at the time, so when he’d moved up to the more advanced levels, it had seemed natural that Harry continue riding him. Harry couldn’t imagine how heartbroken he’d be if someone new came to the yard, ended up stealing the ride from him, and then bought the horse themselves, adding insult to injury. 

With a last rub of Snitch’s muzzle, he went to find Albus to talk about finding him another horse.

* * *

“Really, Albus, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Harry protested for the third time the next morning, hurrying after the elderly trainer as he made his way toward the ‘dungeon’. 

“Nonsense, dear boy,” said Albus, cheerfully. “Why bother going to the trouble of finding a spare horse when we have a riderless one right here.” 

“Because the _actual_ rider doesn’t want me going near it?” Harry retorted. 

They emerged into the small yard to see Severus just about to open DE’s stable door. He looked over his shoulder and scowled at them. 

“Albus, what part of ‘absolutely not, I refuse’ did you not understand?” he asked. 

“Now, Severus, you know DE needs a rider,” Albus began. 

“He’s _my_ horse!” “It’s _his_ horse!” Harry and Severus burst out simultaneously, Severus in outrage, and Harry in what he hoped was well-hidden panic. 

Albus actually began to look annoyed, for the first time that Harry had ever seen. It didn’t appear to faze Severus, though. “When I first took you on,” Albus said, “you agreed to abide by whatever I thought best.” 

“I didn’t agree to just _willingly sign my horse over_!” Severus protested. 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” sighed Albus. “Nobody is signing anything over to anyone. All Harry will be doing is riding DE in the Olympics while you and his own horse are out of commission.” 

Severus sneered. “Oh, that’s all, is it?” he said. “Then perhaps we should let DE decide.” And he beckoned Harry over. 

Harry cast a nervous glance at Albus, who nodded encouragingly. He was fairly certain that he was being set up for something, after all of Severus’ rants about _Potters_ , but he couldn’t see where the trap was. 

“In you go; make friends with him,” said Severus, opening the lower door of the box just enough so that Harry could squeeze through. 

Dark as the yard was, it was still much brighter than the interior of the corner box, and Harry stood just inside the doorway, blinking frantically. DE was too dark to make out, and he knew absolutely nothing at all about the horse, other than that apparently he had frequent disagreements with his prickly rider. 

Eventually, he began to make out an area near the opposite side of the stable where the shadow seemed even denser. A rustle of straw came from that direction, too, so he felt fairly safe in saying that was the horse. 

Holding his hand out in a non-threatening way, he heard the straw rustle again, and a hard snort came from just to the left of him. He hadn’t been moving much to begin with, but now Harry froze entirely, even holding his breath. 

There was a dull thud as Severus shut the stable door behind him. “Have fun,” he said, in a very gleeful tone that made Harry instantly suspicious. “Oh, and by the way,” Severus added, “have I mentioned yet that Death Eater _hates_ Potters as much as I do?” 

Harry’s eyes had been slowly adjusting to the lack of light, so he was now perfectly able to see the big stallion in front of him pin its ears back. 

_Oh, shit!_

* * *

“Severus, that wasn’t very nice,” Albus scolded. 

Severus would have retorted with something along the lines of how it wasn’t very nice of Albus to try and replace him with a _Potter_ , when he knew very well Severus’ history with the accursed lineage, but he didn’t get the chance, as barely two seconds later, the Potter spawn was flying back out of the stable and slamming both halves of the door – leaning back against it just as something on the other side crashed into it. 

“That horse . . .” Potter gasped, “is a menace.” 

“Did he get you?” asked Albus, worriedly. 

Panting, Potter shook his head. “He tried, but I tripped over the water bucket,” he said. 

“Pity,” said Severus. He looked at Albus. “Perhaps now you will understand when I say no.” 

“You know very well how difficult it is to find replacements!” Albus said, crossly. “Having to only find one would be better than two.” 

“That is what you have the reserves for,” said Severus with a sniff. 

Albus glared at him. “Don’t be stupid; you know that if we use the reserves this early then we have to replace _them_.” 

“Hmm, yes, you’re right; I can see where you’d have a problem finding competent riders,” Severus drawled. 

“Do you _want_ the French team to win?” Albus barked, suddenly. “Is that it? Riddle still has his hooks in you?” 

Severus felt himself going pale, and then flushing with rage. How _dare_ Albus bring up his youthful indiscretion! He’d barely been starting out, and Tom Riddle was already well on the way to making a name for himself on the national eventing circuit. How was Severus to know that the friendliness and flattery didn’t mean anything to Riddle but a way to remove what looked to be stiff competition. After the antics of James Potter and Sirius Black, he’d just been thrilled to finally meet someone who seemed pleased to see him and appeared to want to spend time with him. 

When he’d overheard Riddle and another member of the French team, Lucius Malfoy, laughing about how gullible he’d turned out to be, and that any future competition was in the bag for them, he’d slunk away, confused and hurt. 

Albus had, thankfully, accepted him back into the yard, and had tactfully not brought it up again until now. Apparently it was going to be a hold on him for the rest of his sporting life. 

“Fine, then,” he ground out through gritted teeth. “If Potter can ride DE, then let him. Go right ahead. No concern of mine.” And dropping the feed bucket that he’d still been holding, Severus turned and stalked away.

* * *

Harry watched with a sinking feeling as Severus disappeared out of sight. 

“Wasn’t that a bit harsh?” he asked Albus. 

Albus sighed, his expression falling. “Yes, it was,” he admitted. “But there’s no other way. It was bad enough picking everyone the first time round. Most of those not chosen won’t be available now – I’ve been checking. If you can take Severus’ place on DE, then Lavender can take your place, and Neville can be the travelling reserve. That way I only need to find someone to be the static reserve.” 

“Things are that dire?” Harry was shocked. 

“Eventing is expensive,” Albus pointed out. “And places to keep horses are dwindling by the day, it seems. We don’t have much new blood to choose from; certainly there aren’t many riders who comfortably qualified.” 

“I still don’t think this is a good idea.” 

“You heard Severus,” Albus said. “He agreed you could ride DE.” 

Harry looked at the stable door he was still leaning against, the one that the stallion inside had chased him out of not five minutes ago. “Er, and how am I supposed to do that?”

* * *

_Treats_ , Albus had suggested. _Lots and lots of treats_. 

Which was very awkward, being as he wasn’t supposed to take treats anywhere near Blackie – who happened to be in the very next box. 

He’d dragged his friends, Ron and Hermione, into the idea, and Hermione had finally had the bright idea of closing the top half of Blackie’s stable door, too. The gelding had sulked as he’d been closed in, and had spent ten minutes kicking his food and water buckets around. Harry was horribly afraid that Severus was going to make _him_ muck out the resulting mess. 

Once there was no danger of Blackie thinking the treats were for him, Harry had stood at DE’s door, holding a carrot over the bottom half of the door until he thought his arm was going to fall off. The stallion inside was not impressed, and had totally ignored the carrots, both in Harry’s hand and the ones he’d thrown close to the horse to tempt him. 

“This is not going to work,” Harry groaned, finally. 

“We could always bring Crookshanks over here,” Hermione suggested. “He might be a bit more . . . amenable to a mare.” 

Ron snorted. “Somehow, I doubt it,” he said. “Horse hasn’t shown any interest in a mare yet. Rather like his owner. Er, his owner with women, I mean,” he added, hastily, when Harry and Hermione both pulled disgusted faces at him. 

DE seemed equally disgusted, as he chose that moment to rush the door, his teeth bared. Skipping back hastily and slamming the top half of the door closed, Harry looked at his shaken friends. “I think I’d better tell Albus to give up on this idea,” he said, and went off to do just that.

* * *

Which made it all the more surprising when he arrived the next morning to find a large black horse tied to the rail just outside of Golden Snidget’s box, pulling equine faces at the occupant. Snitch wasn’t quite cowering in the corner, but he was undoubtedly wondering what he’d done to deserve such hostility from a horse he’d never met before. 

“Er,” was the best that Harry could come up with. He held out a hand for the horse to sniff, and it promptly switched its focus to pulling faces at Harry. He swiftly retracted his hand, just in case the horse decided to become more physical in its dislike. 

Stepping back, he ran his eyes over the strange horse. It was a very tall horse – _stallion_ , he corrected himself – and was black all over, except for a strange splotch of white on the inside of its left foreleg, which, if he twisted his head a bit and squinted, looked like a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. 

“There you are,” said Albus from behind Harry. 

“Er—” said Harry, again, and pointed at the horse. “Who’s this?” 

Albus looked pleased. “I asked Severus to retrieve DE from his box,” he explained. “Made it a bit easier for you.” He actually winked. 

Harry made a doubtful noise. He might be actually able to _see_ the horse now, and get relatively near, but he still had to tack the horse up before he could actually _ride_ it. And he wasn’t entirely certain he could get the stallion to accept a bit without losing some of his fingers. 

_And speaking of tack_ . . . Harry looked around. “Any idea where Severus keeps his tack?” he asked Albus. Receiving no reply, he looked up and discovered that Albus had gone as quickly and as quietly as he’d arrived. Harry frowned. “Bugger,” he said. Even if Severus kept his tack in the same room as everyone else, there was no guarantee it’d actually be _labelled_. 

It took an embarrassing amount of time, and asking pretty much every person in the yard, before he discovered that Severus stored his tack in one of the other boxes in the ‘dungeon’ area. By the time he returned to the horse, DE was mouthing at the knot in the rope holding him to the rail, obviously hoping it’d be easy to undo. Thankfully, Severus had actually secured him properly – Harry wouldn’t have put it past the dour man to just casually tie his horse up and then watch Harry panic as DE freed himself and escaped. 

“Sorry, fella,” he said, putting the grooming box down beside the horse. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” The horse blew out a huge sigh, and Harry grinned to himself as he turned to place the tack on the next rail over. 

As he turned back around and picked up a body brush from the grooming box, he noticed that Snitch had come to the door of his box, now that the other horse had been distracted from his face pulling. Seeing the brush, the gelding whickered, hopeful that Harry was going to brush _him_. 

DE gave him a look of disgust, and then – to further underscore his disapproval of the chestnut and this entire situation – gave a wet snort. Snitch jerked his head back, away from the spray of snot, looking astonished at this treatment. 

“Stop that,” Harry ordered DE, although he rather spoiled the effect by having to swallow a chuckle at Snitch’s expression. “You have to be groomed, whether you like it or not.” 

As it turned out, DE _did_ like it. As Harry swept the brush over his body with firm stokes, the horse eventually cocked a hip and seemed to doze off. Of course, he perked right up again once Harry slung the numnah and then the saddle over his back. Reaching – carefully – under the stallion’s belly for the girth, Harry frowned as the end barely met the buckles. He was fairly certain that Severus wouldn’t have bothered adjusting his tack, not least of which because it would have made it awkward for him the next time _he_ wanted to use it, if Harry hadn’t managed to get the thing on DE. 

Of course, it was well known that some horses held their breath while being tacked up, with the result that the girth was never as tight as the rider expected. Harry had never heard of a horse blowing themselves up so much that the girth couldn’t even be fastened at all, though. 

Tugging at the girth again, he poked DE hard in the ribs. The stallion gave an explosive grunt, and his sides went down, allowing Harry to pull the girth up enough to buckle it. 

However, the buckles only reached the first set of holes, and Harry could see quite clearly the dent in the leather that proved the usual set of holes was much further down the strap. 

“You can’t hold your breath forever,” he complained to DE, and prodded him in the ribs again. The horse shook his head hard enough to make his mane flop over his neck, but didn’t show any signs of letting his breath out. “Come on,” Harry grunted, fruitlessly tugging the girth again. 

God knew how long the stand-off would have continued, but at that point, Neville Longbottom walked his horse across the yard towards the outdoor arena, directly behind DE. His mare, Mimbulus Mimbletonia – how on earth the mare had ended up with _that_ as a name was a mystery for the ages – was a very high-strung, flighty mouse grey, and she was currently prancing along, lifting her hooves up as though Neville was trying to lead her over hot coals. Naturally, she ended up bumping into DE’s hindquarters. 

With a squeal of outrage, DE forgot all about holding his breath, and instead let fly with both hind legs. Luckily, Mimbulus was already past him, but Harry took the opportunity to yank up the girth into its proper place. 

“No wonder Severus stables you in the dungeon,” Harry scolded the black horse, reaching for the bridle. “You’re not fit to be around other horses.” 

This declaration did absolutely nothing to entice DE to be more compliant with Harry, who was suddenly faced with the realisation that he now had to get the bit between the teeth of a horse who didn’t actually want to open his mouth, and when he did, was likely only to do so to bite whatever body part was nearest to him. 

He thought that perhaps he could just shove the bit in when DE opened his teeth to bite him, but the wily horse apparently read his mind, and refused to open up at all. Not even wriggling his finger in the corner of DE’s mouth helped. After ten minutes of this, Harry was seriously considering whether he should attempt to ride DE in just a halter. It was either that, or admit defeat and un-tack him again. 

“Oh, for God’s sake!” a voice said impatiently from behind him, just as a hand reached over his shoulder and snatched the bit away from him. 

Harry jumped, and almost dropped the rest of the bridle. He hadn’t realised Severus had even arrived in the yard, let alone crept up on him. 

“Hurry up, then!” Severus snapped, and Harry suddenly registered that the bit was now sitting safely in DE’s mouth. Gaping at the other rider, it took him a moment to become aware that he should really put the rest of the bridle on. 

Once he’d buckled it up, he turned to face Severus. “What are you doing here?” he asked, suspiciously. 

“Watching Albus’ grand plan fail, obviously,” the man sneered. “But it was taking you so long to tack him up, it’d be nightfall before you got close to getting on him at this rate.” 

“You don’t want me on him at all,” Harry pointed out. 

“I also don’t want him traumatised,” said Severus with a haughty sniff. 

Harry looked past Severus at DE, who was happily snuffling at the man’s pockets. The very idea of this horse being traumatised because he wouldn’t let Harry tack him up was laughable, and he raised his eyebrows at Severus. 

“Fine,” Severus grumbled, scowling at him. “Good luck _staying_ on him.” And with a quick pat to DE’s neck, he was striding off again.

* * *

Lurking at the side of one of the stable buildings, Severus watched as Potter led DE to the outdoor arena. 

Or tried to, at least. 

DE had planted his feet and was refusing to move, and Potter wasn’t strong enough to force several tons of reluctant horseflesh to go where it didn’t want to. Severus had to stifle a laugh when Potter leaned against DE’s shoulder, red-faced and panting. 

His mirth quickly faded, though, as Ginevra Weasley approached Potter and his horse. 

The only girl in a family of older brothers, the redheaded girl was headstrong, spoilt, and rebellious. She had ventured into the equestrian world in the typical love of horses that most all little girls had, causing several of her brothers to follow her in the – totally accurate – belief that she needed protecting. 

Unfortunately, her temperament did not make her a good rider, and most owners refused to put her up on their horses more than once; twice, if they were feeling very generous. To combat this, she had forced her parents to buy her a horse of her very own, even though they could ill-afford to do so. And instead of listening to the experts, pointing out affordable, bomb-proof schoolmasters that were used to doing lessons with all levels of children, she had gone straight to the top and bought a flashy Arab yearling. 

Arabs were high-strung enough as it was, but with the lack of proper training Ginevra Weasley had given it, then this one was completely out of control. Albus had forbidden anybody else from trying to ride the stallion, and was threatening to kick them both out if Ginevra didn’t train and settle her horse. 

It hadn’t made any difference. Ginevra was convinced that she was the next top Olympic rider, and not even being selected as the static reserve had been a severe blow to her ego. Now that Severus was unfortunately out of the running, she apparently firmly believed that she could easily swan into his vacant place. 

And it looked as if she thought Potter would help her. 

She had stopped in front of him and DE, and was standing with one hip cocked towards Potter, her hand resting just above it to call attention to it. Her other hand was playing with the ends of one of the ponytails she had her hair in – quite why she still felt the need to have her hair in _bunches_ was a mystery to Severus – and she was licking her lips every other sentence or so as her eyes fixed on Potter. 

In fact, they were so fixed on Potter that she didn’t appear to notice that DE had pinned his ears back at her. _Potter_ didn’t appear to be so blinded by her that _he_ hadn’t noticed, as his grip on DE’s reins had gone tight enough to make his knuckles white, and he wasn’t so much leaning on DE for support now, as leaning against DE in an attempt to prevent the horse from launching himself at Ginevra. 

The oblivious idiot kept right on talking and _flirting_ – right up until DE lunged at her, his teeth bared. She skipped backwards with a shrill squeal as the stallion’s teeth met just millimetres away from her arm. 

“No!” Potter was shouting, leaning backwards and hauling on the reins in an attempt to swing DE away from her. “Bad horse!” 

Severus shook his head, completely unsurprised when one of the reins snapped and almost sent Potter sprawling. Potter would definitely be paying for that.

* * *

Once Harry managed to get the black demon currently posing as a horse safely away from Ginny – he wasn’t entirely sorry; her patent crush on him was just embarrassing. She was his best mate’s _little sister_ , for crying out loud! – with a little help from Severus, the next obstacle, after fixing the bridle, was actually mounting the horse. 

After putting his left foot in the stirrup, Harry hopped a couple of times to get the bounce necessary to hoist himself up. 

And then kept hopping, as DE started to sidle sideways away from him. 

In the end, that first day, it took six people to hold the horse still, and within two minutes of mounting, Harry found himself landing back on the ground again, not entirely voluntarily.

* * *

The second day, it still took six people to hold the horse, and Harry lasted a grand total of three minutes before being tossed through the air.

* * *

The third day, he forced DE into daisy reins so the horse couldn’t get his head down to buck. It _still_ took half a dozen people to hold him, and this time, Harry managed a creditable five minutes before DE corkscrewed himself into the air.

* * *

The fourth day they managed to fit two sets of daisy reins, and DE responded by rearing instead, dumping Harry onto his back . . . right into the mess DE had just made.

* * *

The fifth day, they’d graduated to _eight_ people holding DE, and the crafty horse dropped straight to the ground, threatening to roll on Harry.

* * *

The sixth day, Harry went to Albus and told him flat out that this just wasn’t going to work. 

“Nonsense,” Albus said, beaming at him. “I’m sure you’ll get along just fine with DE.” 

“Er, you do realise I’ve not actually been able to _ride_ him, yet?” Harry double-checked, although he was positive that tales of his doomed attempts had made the round of the yard by now. 

Albus offered him a dish of lemon drops that sat on his desk. “I’m sure once you’ve worked things out you’ll do marvellously,” he said, cheerfully. 

Harry found himself outside the office with the vague sense that he’d just been figuratively patted on the head like a little child. He frowned at the closed door for a moment. He _really_ hoped Albus had a back-up plan in mind, because this one didn’t seem to have much of a chance of succeeding. 

Shaking his head, he decided it was about time he went to see Golden Snidget. He’d spent most of the past five days fighting with DE for one reason or another, and he missed his friendly gelding. 

Snitch had apparently missed him, too, because the chestnut whinnied eagerly as soon as he saw Harry. And it wasn’t just because Harry had a pocketful of apple slices and carrots for him. 

“Shame you can’t give me pointers,” Harry said, ruffling Snitch’s mane as the horse crunched happily through an apple. “Or rather, shame you can’t give _DE_ pointers.” 

“DE doesn’t need pointers,” said a voice from behind him, huffily, and Harry turned around to find Severus scowling fiercely at him. “He’s a highly trained horse who knows what he’s doing.” 

Harry gave Severus’ sling-wrapped arm a pointed look. “Except when it comes to jumping fences?” he asked. 

Spots of colour suddenly appeared over Severus’ cheekbones. “He’s a good horse,” he said, defensively. “Just because _you_ can’t ride him—” 

Harry shook his head and turned back to Snitch as the gelding began lipping at his pocket. “I never said otherwise,” he said, casually. “I know he’s a good horse, Severus. I looked up your previous competitions.” 

“He’s _my_ horse!” Severus suddenly snarled, and Snitch jerked his head up with a snort, startled. 

“Of course he’s your horse.” Harry rubbed a calming hand over Snitch’s muzzle. “I’m not going to take him away from you. I’m not my dad.” 

There was silence for a long moment, and Harry felt a strong urge to look over his shoulder and see if Severus was still there. 

“But you— But—” Severus couldn’t seem to get a complete sentence out. 

“I’m perfectly happy with Snitch,” Harry informed him. “And if it ever gets to the point where Mrs Figg and Mrs McGonagall don’t want to or can’t own him anymore, then I get first refusal. Failing that, I’d find some _other_ horse to ride.” He turned to face Severus, who looked a bit flabbergasted. “Death Eater is yours, fair and square. Nobody’s going to take him this time.” Now Harry smiled at him, tentatively, and a bit bashfully. “Perhaps _you_ could give me some pointers on _him_?” he suggested. 

Severus was recovering himself now. “Perhaps,” he drawled, looking down his nose at Harry. “I shall be here first thing tomorrow morning.” 

Harry grinned as he watched the tall man stalk off. Snitch idly rubbed his head against Harry’s arm, and Harry turned back to petting his gelding. 

Perhaps someday soon, both Severus and Death Eater would realise that they didn’t entirely hate _all_ Potters.

-The End-

**Author's Note:**

> *Daisy reins are reins that connect the bridle to the saddle, going down the horse’s neck, to stop its head being put down. A numnah is the pad that goes under the saddle to prevent it rubbing. A basic colour guide can be found on equine-world.co.uk, and a more detailed one on wiki. 
> 
> I haven’t specified which Olympics I mean, so you can take your pick. And the rider/manager is, of course, the legendary Sir Mark Todd. Long may he reign – even if it isn’t my country he’s competing for.
> 
> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](http://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3676612.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1621418.html), or [Dreamwidth](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/923900.html).


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